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Who knows what is hidden
behind those two locked doors,
padlocks jammed even when the key fits?
Musty air swims up the currents of cool wind,
although these windows have been opened
and the air is fresh.

The kitchen tiles are yellowed and chipped,
the refrigerator long emptied,
disconnected from its charge.
The old grout has blackened with age and wait,
the wall crumbling and broken.
Sagging cardboard boxes, half packed,
as if one were moving and decided to return halfway,
except there is no return.
The home is empty.

Is that dust I spy snowing onto the side tables?
Old black and white pictures grace the walls,
unmoving reminders of what past once was.
Grandmother's vitality restored to her
in this dream-world of smiling faces,
while she shuffles on the last leg of her journey.
Mother's health restored to her
in this dream-world of gleeful classmates,
while she lies at home holding her best.

Could a home ever look more abandoned
and lifeless? What happened to this
breath of life?
©2009 ~reflectia
:iconreflectia:

Author's Comments

"A simple child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?"

-- William Henry Wordsworth

Comments


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:icontallnfrosty:
I see it. Very powerful imagery. Beautifully written.
:iconreflectia:
Thank you!

--
Get a life or die trying!
Everyone is beautiful if you squint a bit.
Fear not my insanity, fear the mind it protects.
I am the world's greatest authority on my own opinion.
:icontallnfrosty:
Praise where praise is due :). I also really like the one about Atlas.
:iconvgaer:
Hi! You've been featured for your good work in an article here. :+favlove:

--
join #ALLourLOVE a gay, straight, and anywhere in between alliance

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